


And I tore the fear from my bones {that you probably never lost}

by spaceprincessem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is a Nice Thing, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, Protective Derek Hale, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Ten Years Later, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceprincessem/pseuds/spaceprincessem
Summary: It wasn’t like he had planned to come back here.It may have lingered at the back of his mind, hiding in the corner of the shadows, but it wasn’t a conscious thought. It wasn’t this great need or desire he felt compelled to fulfill. He had stayed away this long, found peace in the small town he had settled in. A place he could call home. The pull to return slowly faded, until it was a dull hum in his bones. Small, but never gone. He decided he could live with that. Live with the knowledge that there would always be that something - that someone - calling him back no matter where he went.Derek comes back to Beacon Hills ten years later to find what he's really been missing.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 16
Kudos: 281





	And I tore the fear from my bones {that you probably never lost}

**Author's Note:**

> God this was only supposed to be like 3-5k max why does this keep happening to me haha. Also, this was supposed to be a hallmark holiday type story, but apparently all I can write is angst. So. Happy holidays everyone I hope you like angst! Title inspired by the lovely song [alps](https://open.spotify.com/track/5eG8QuQKOBvDeCyoOeMkhT?si=6GBjef0BRJO_EBO3dEYyHw) by Novo Amour and Ed Tullett

It wasn’t like he had planned to come back here. 

It may have lingered at the back of his mind, hiding in the corner of the shadows, but it wasn’t a conscious thought. It wasn’t this great need or desire he felt compelled to fulfill. He had stayed away this long, found peace in the small town he had settled in. A place he could call home. The pull to return slowly faded, until it was a dull hum in his bones. Small, but never gone. He decided he could live with that. Live with the knowledge that there would always be that something -  _ that someone _ \- calling him back no matter where he went. 

So, yeah, he really hadn’t planned on coming back at all.

But when it came to Derek Hale’s life he acknowledged the universe didn’t really take into account what he wanted. Despite being miles and miles away it seemed that the threats that came with being who he was somehow always followed. He’d been at his tiny cabin in a small corner of Washington for about six years now. It was secluded and quiet. It was surrounded by woods and had endless stacks of books that could keep him occupied for years. Everything in town was local and he even had the great fortune of befriending his neighbor, an older woman who was a retired emissary. She knew exactly  _ who _ he was when meeting him. She was the closest thing he had to a friend out here. He would shovel her snow and bring her chopped firewood. They would occasionally have dinner together and she gave him anything he needed when it came to the supernatural aspect of his life. 

So when he had come home from a two day trip in the mountains to discover a tiny note on his door scrawled in her spidery handwriting he didn’t hesitate to heed her warning

_ He found you. Don’t worry I have plenty of wood for the winter. Take care of yourself. _

And that was that. He packed a bag and hit the road before the sun had peaked over the horizon. When it was safe he would return. He just needed to shake this hutner from his tail before he could go back to his peaceful life. It was annoying, really, that this hunter was so intent on tracking Derek down, but he supposed there was something in being one of the last remaining Hales. People like O’Connor, or  _ Red Eye _ , as they called him, would never stop until every last born werewolf was dead. At least Cora was far from here. He thought he would just drive a few hours, maybe find a motel to camp out in for a while, but as soon as he was behind the wheel of his camaro he felt it.

That goddamn hum in his bones, that itch beneath his skin, that quiet pull to return back to the place he swore he would never step foot in. So he drove and drove and drove and drove until his headlights fell across the wood sign welcoming him to  _ Beacon Hills _ . His heart was immediately in his throat as he crossed the county line, but the wolf in his chest settled in a way that made him realize he had been missing this place terribly. Or maybe it wasn’t the place at all. But the face of a boy with milk white skin, dotted with moles and honey-whiskey eyes that held flecks of gold in just the right light. 

It was ridiculous, really, because Derek was supposed to leave that all behind. He’d made a choice and that didn’t include falling for the boy who ran with wolves. It had been nearly ten years and that feeling in his chest, that bone deep ache was  _ still there _ . He’d never quite figured out Stiles. Not really. He never understood the lingering glances between them or how the boy  _ always  _ came back for Derek. Always stood by his side. He couldn’t explain how his heart raced in time with the boy’s own or how with just the simple twist of Stiles’ lips made Derek feel  _ something _ again. 

Derek thought that if they lived in a different world, away from the danger and destruction and  _ death _ that always seemed to follow there could have been something there. If Derek didn’t feel the need to just get the hell out of Dodge to finally find some semblance of peace then maybe he could have found the answers he was looking for. The worst part of it all was that Stiles never blamed him for leaving, never got angry, or told him he was a coward for running. He just smiled, doe brown eyes sad, and wished Derek the best, telling him he would always have a place in Beacon Hills. In their pack. In Stiles’ heart. 

He never said the last part, but somehow Derek could read between the lines, which should have scared him, but it only made it that much harder to leave. Over the years he had only texted Stiles a few times, just letting the boy know he was alive. Stiles, in return, did the same. It was enough, Derek told himself, to know that Stiles still existed in the world. He wasn’t sure he could handle the alternative. The last text he had sent was six years ago when he had settled in. The last text he had received was four years ago. He tried not to let it make him feel lonely.

It was just past two in the morning when he had arrived. The town was fast asleep. Derek was thankful for that. He knew a few of the hotels in the area, but somehow he ended up parked right outside the loft. When he had left he had given it to Scott to use as sort of a home base. He wasn’t sure how often it had been used or if the pack had just abandoned it all together, but Derek felt it was as good a place as any to stay in for the night. He just wished he hadn’t got rid of the bed. He got the strangest sense of  Déjà vu as he reached out for the sliding doors. He half expected to be attacked by a rogue creature or maybe tackled to the ground by a pack member. But the loft was silent as he stepped into the dark. He could catch that faintest wift of them,  _ of pack _ , lingering in the air. It had probably been a month or two since they had been there. 

Derek supposed that was a good thing. It meant that there hadn’t been any threats to the town that needed to be taken care of. The pull from the Nemeton couldn’t last forever. Maybe Beacon Hills had finally become a safe place again. Or, well, as safe as any place could be given what lived out in the world. But if Beacon Hills had quieted down over the years then maybe the pack actually had a shot of living a normal life. The thought made Derek smile faintly as he sat down on the worn, leather couch, brushing away a light coating of dust. He imagined them going to college, starting their careers, and falling in love. There was a small pang in his chest as he thought of Stiles with a faceless person. Of someone making him laugh, of someone holding him close at night, of someone seeing the beauty in all that he was. 

Derek kicked his shoes off, slowly laying down. Choices, right? He left Beacon Hills. He was never supposed to look back. Stiles stayed behind. He didn’t have a right to feel something akin to jealousy at the thought of Stiles being happy with someone else. Stiles deserved someone better than Derek anyway. He wondered if he would be able to get through the next few days without running into the pack at all. 

He hated that he wanted to avoid them. He hated that he wanted to see them.

* * *

Beacon Hills had changed over the years that Derek had been away. He shouldn’t have been surprised, places change all the time. He just half expected the town to look exactly the same as it had when he moved on from it almost ten years ago. Derek didn’t know whether he should take comfort in the things that were the exact same, like the high school. It was like he’d been thrown right back into his past. The chemical smell of chlorine burned his nose, his clothes damp against his skin as he heard the word  _ abomination _ slip from Stiles’ lips, his amber eyes pinning Derek with a look that nearly made his heart stop. 

Derek stepped on the gas a little harder as he drove past the building, heading into the center of town. It was almost unrecognizable. There were new shops, restaurants, and other businesses of entertainment lining the once quiet streets. The sidewalks and cafes were bustling with people as they flitted into different shops, the area buzzing with endless activity. It was nice seeing the town so alive, but despite it all Derek couldn’t stop the dull ache that was now sitting against his chest. The most startling discovery was seeing the giant tree in the center of the square. All of the shops were decorated in greenery, red and gold ribbons, and lights twinkling against the grey sky. It wasn’t until Derek looked up at the big countdown clock did he realize they were just under a week until Christmas. Living in his secluded cabin he didn’t pay much attention to the dates, just the changing of the seasons and the cycle of the moon. 

The flickering thought of sending Cora a gift died when he realized neither of them had exchanged such things since before the fire.

He pulled into a parking spot, intent on looking around and maybe finding a decent cup of coffee. He quickly grabbed an old baseball hat and a pair of sunglasses, hoping that it would stop people from recognizing him. The last thing he needed was for the whispers of  _ Is that Derek Hale _ to be circulating around town. He didn’t want to draw Red Eye’s attention to a place that had seemed to finally find peace. Maybe he would get lucky and the people of Beacon Hills had forgotten that anyone by the name  _ Hale _ had even lived there. Maybe the burnt remains of the house in the preserve was just a legend, a ghost story used to frighten kids from going too deep into the woods. 

He walked past a few different coffee places, all of them looking interesting, but he couldn’t help the small pull that carried him down the street until he reached the biggest cafe on the block. It was connected to a bookstore and seemed to be the hotspot of the town. The inside was huge, with couches, chairs, and tables filling the space of the coffee shop. Dark, wood shelves and tables stacked with books made up the other side. It looked cozy and inviting so Derek pushed open the door and walked right on in. Maybe if he had paid closer attention to the name -  _ The Fox and The Wolf _ \- he would have realized his colossal mistake as he passed over the threshold, the tickling bell announcing his presence. 

He was met with a wave of smells. Spicy clove and sweet cinnamon, the warmth of freshly made coffee, chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven, but nothing,  _ nothing _ hit Derek like the smell of pack. It welcomed him like an old friend, filling his lungs, his  _ soul _ , with something he didn’t realize he was missing. It was the smell of the preserve, of  _ home _ and  _ comfort _ and-

Derek inhaled sharply, because now he really needed to get the fuck out of there. It was that slightly too fast heart beat, the one he could pick out in any crowd, the one he had memorized years and years ago. It was that laugh, belly deep and endless, the one he sometimes dreamed about when the quiet was too much to bear. It was those goddamn amber eyes with flecks of gold in the sunlight that Derek instantly found, like he knew exactly where they would be. 

It was Stiles Stilinski.

Derek hadn’t realized he missed the buzz cut. It reminded him of those early days, when they were at each other’s throats, threading between the lines of enemies and allies. It was slightly grown out, accompanied by a face full of scruff Derek never knew he needed to see framing those soft cheeks. Derek had forgotten how beautiful Stiles’ really was. He suddenly regretted removing the sunglasses because - _ like a goddamn movie _ \- Stiles’ eyes had found his. For a moment they both gazed at each other, holding their breath. He could read it, plain as day, Stiles asking him without saying a single word.

_ Are you real? _

To Stiles, Derek was probably the fucking ghost of Christmas’ past. Four years since he had received a text from the boy. Six since Stiles had last heard from Derek. He almost wouldn’t have blamed Stiles for marching right up to him and punching him in the face. Derek probably deserved it. He had been the one to abandon them after all. So it was with great surprise that Derek watched Stiles’ lips break out into the most breathtaking smile.

“Derek?”

Derek nearly choked as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He was moving against his will, his body following that pull, like he somehow had fallen right back into the boy’s gravity. Stiles wasn’t the only one sitting at the table. Lydia was there too. She only gave Derek an unimpressed once over before cocking a perfectly manicured eyebrow. It was still just as terrifying as it had been ten years ago. And yet Derek found it oddly enduring.

“Holy shit, it really is you!” Stiles said, getting to his feet, smile still shining on his face. He stopped just in front of Derek, hands dropping to his sides as if he remembered Derek wasn’t one to be touched without permission. 

“Uh, hi.” Derek said, his brain slowly catching up with his pounding heart. He gave a small nod and that’s all Stiles needed before he launched himself into the wolf’s arms. Derek didn’t stumble or fall back as he caught Stiles because he would always catch Stiles. Always. Something warm and pleasant nestled itself into Derek’s bones as he held onto the boy he had never truly gotten out of his head. Or his heart. Derek nuzzled against Stiles’ neck, stubble brushing against milk, white skin, leaving  _ his _ scent where it belonged.

“Dude,” Stiles pulled back, still looking at Derek like he couldn’t believe he was real, “what are you doing here?”

“Don’t call me dude.” Derek replied on reflex, causing Stiles to laugh. 

_ God how he missed that sound _ .

“It’s kind of a long story.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

It was now that he was realizing just how big of a fucking mistake it was coming back to Beacon Hills. There were so many reasons to return. It was his home. This is where his pack was. This is where Stiles was. And yet -  _ and yet _ \- he hadn’t set foot in the place in  _ ten fucking years _ until he was on the run from some lone hunter out to get him. If they -  _ if Stiles _ \- wasn’t angry with him now, they soon would be for hearing the reason behind his brief return.

“Well,” Stiles said, pulling out a chair for Derek to sit, “lucky for you we have all day.”

“Correction,” Lydia interrupted as she reapplied a soft, pink gloss to her lips, “ _ you _ have all day. I have until Malia is done barking at the new employees.”

It was then that Derek noticed the sparkling band on Lydia’s ring finger, sitting right under the most gorgeous (and biggest) diamond engagement ring he had ever seen. When he caught sight of Malia walking over, drying her hands on an apron, he caught sight of the matching band, finally putting two and two together. It was right there did Derek remember that not all change was bad.

“I thought I smelled you.” Malia said as a way of greeting as she stopped right next to Lydia, placing a hand on her wife’s shoulder.

“I didn’t realize you baked.” Derek responded as he indicated his head towards the half eaten pastries on the table.

“Some of us needed a hobby when the monster hunting died down.” Malia shrugged.

“So,” Derek said looking around the shop, his eyes wandering over to the bookstore portion, “you own this side and…”

“And Kira runs the book shop, yes.” Lydia said with a proud smile. “We’re the hottest place in town.”

“I can see that.” He said, giving them a genuine smile. 

He’d always been worried, even after he had left it all behind, that his pack would never find a sense of normalcy after all the things they had seen. After everything they had been through. But here they were, married or engaged, running their own business, looking happy and healthy as can be. Here they were living life. Here they were being alive.

“I’ll have to tell Scott you’re here!” Stiles chipped in excitedly as he pulled out his phone to text the alpha about Derek’s impromptu visit. “He’s working over at the clinic, but maybe we can all grab dinner together.”

It was probably a terrible idea. Derek wasn’t sticking around for long and he didn’t want to get any hopes up, but now that he was here he wanted to see all of them. He wanted to hear about their lives. Maybe if he knew how well they had got on without him the past few years it would make leaving again that much easier. Most of all he wanted to see Stiles as much as possible. Like seeing him would be the last, big breath he was allowed to take before being shoved back underwater for eternity.

“Sure,” Derek said as he finally took a seat at the table, knowing there was no escape now, “I have some time.”

Stiles’ smile was worth it. It was  _ fucking _ worth it.

“Text us the time and place,” Lydia said as she grabbed her purse, getting up from the table, “and we’ll be there.”

“Derek just got here and you’re already leaving?” Stiles asked with a small frown.

Lydia’s smile was all teeth. “I’m sure we will have plenty of time to catch up with Derek.”

It was too knowing. Too  _ sure _ of herself, but if Derek had learned one thing about the strawberry blonde standing in front of him was that she was rarely ever wrong. He swallowed the lump in his throat he didn’t know was forming as he watched the two women head for the exit hand in hand. Derek suddenly realized he and Stiles were alone. It would have been terrifying, being faced with the one person you cared about most in the world even after all this time, but everything with Stiles was easy. It was like they hadn’t been apart at all.

“There’s so much to fill you in on,” Stiles began excitedly, and Derek couldn’t help, but zone in on his racing heart, “but I’ll just give you the cliffnotes so I don’t steal anyone’s thunder.”

“Cliffnotes from you will read like a novel.” Derek snorted, enjoying the offended scoff brushing over Stiles’ lips.

“Please,” Stiles said, “I  _ know _ you missed hearing me talk.”

_ More than you could ever know _

But Derek just rolled his eyes, trying to fight off the fond smile beginning to creep over his face. He let the sound of Stiles’ voice take over, his wolf settling in his chest as he sipped from his coffee cup. Stiles still talked with his hands. Big, exaggerated movements, his face twisting and scrunching as he laid into the details, like he wanted Derek to perfectly picture what life was like in Beacon Hills while he was gone.

“So, where are you staying?” Stiles asked halfway through a story, as if the question were more important than whatever else he was saying.

“What?” Derek felt like he had just received whiplash.

“I know for a fact all of the hotels are booked,” Stiles continued, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Derek, “so where are you staying?”

Derek felt his cheeks burn for a moment. He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to admit that something deep, something primal, something he couldn’t quite explain led him back to the place that had once been his home. A place that held so just as much good as it did bad.

“I think you know.” Derek murmured.

“The loft?” Stiles asked with a raised eyebrow. “Dude, there’s not even a bed there anymore!”

Derek shrugged his shoulders. “There’s a couch and that’s enough.” 

He didn’t want to mention that it smelled like pack. Like safety. Like home. Even if barely lingered in the air.

“Come stay with me.” Stiles offered like Derek staying on the couch was the most offensive thing in the world. “I have a spare bedroom with an actual bed.”

“Stiles-” Derek began, but the look he gave the wolf in return told Derek he had already made up his mind. It was good to know Stiles was still as stubborn as ever. “I’m not here on holiday,” he started again, because putting Stiles’ life in danger was the last thing he wanted to do, “I’m lying low for a few days.”

Stiles’ lips curled into a half smirk, “Trust me, Sourwolf, you’ll definitely want to stay with me then.”

Maybe it was the way his old nickname rolled off of Stiles’ tongue or the tug of the boy’s lips that broke down Derek’s defenses so easily. Or Maybe Derek just knew he was doomed to agree the moment Stiles had offered.

“Fine.” he said with an exasperated sigh, like he was hard pressed to answer, but he could tell by the way Stiles’ eyes sparkled gold in the morning light that it wasn’t a difficult decision at all. Derek averted his gaze, eyes dropping the bottom of his coffee stained cup. 

He hadn’t planned on coming back here at all, but he was almost glad he did.

* * *

It was the cool, night air that provided a breath of relief as Derek trailed behind Stiles, heading in the direction for the boy’s apartment. It had been nice seeing the pack and hearing their stories, but Derek was overwhelmed. He had missed a lot in his time away. The first couple of years after his departure had been hard as the supernatural aspect picked up immensely. They didn’t go into much detail, but Derek could see it in the lines of their faces, the haunting shadows in their eyes. Those years would live with them forever, no matter how much time passed. He was upset with himself that he hadn’t been there to protect them. He was also selfishly glad he had stayed far away. But life wasn’t all nightmares and monsters. They had survived, time and time again and somehow found their way.

Malia and Lydia had been married for two years now. Kira and Scott were engaged. Isaac and Allison were expecting their first child. They all had jobs and hobbies. They took vacations and had travelled around the world. They did normal things together. They went to bars, had Christmas parties, they hosted dinners, they owned coffee shops and bookstores. They were starting families. A half smile curled against Derek’s lips. They deserved all the happiness in the world. What Derek couldn’t figure out was how Stiles was still alone. He made no mentions of girlfriends or boyfriends. There wasn’t a ring on his finger. He hadn’t settled down. Derek just couldn’t understand. 

Stiles was  _ beautiful _ . He was kind and loyal. Anyone would be lucky to have him and yet here he was offering his spare bedroom to Derek to crash in for a few days. Stiles turned towards Derek, offering him a shy grin as he ran a hand through his soft hair.

“It might be a little messy,” he hummed, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “I know winter break started a week ago, but I haven’t taken the time to really organize like I should.”

“I don’t mind.” Derek said with a small shrug of his shoulders. 

Stiles always seemed to thrive in the chaos, if his teenage bedroom had been anything to go by. Walking into a spotless apartment would make him believe he had stumbled into the wrong home. During their catch up session Stiles had talked a lot about his job. He was the guidance and grief counselor at Beacon Hills High. Derek had been surprised, expecting Stiles to follow in his father’s footsteps or put his detective skills at work for the FBI. He remembered Stiles talking about it a long time ago. He never thought the boy would end up back at the high school, a place even Derek had found himself back in during his nightmares. Stiles was braver than most going back there. 

Derek followed Stiles inside. He was hit with the overwhelming smell of the warm cinnamon and sweet vanilla. It curled against his tongue, only giving him a moment to catch his breath before a quiet hum of electricity began to vibrate beneath his skin. It made him feel safe. Stiles hadn’t caught his moment of hesitation as he began flocking lights on, throwing his keys on the wooden coffee table resting in front of a worn, leather couch. The walls were lined with shelves filled with books, maps, and what almost looked like a small apothecary. There were bottles of all shapes and sizes, filled with powders, liquids, and dried plants Derek couldn’t identify. There was a giant desk in the back corner of the room, squeezed between the kitchen and living room. It had various papers, books, and bottles scattered across the dark wood. There was a laptop and what looked like their very own Bestiary perched at the end. There were the usual apartment things like a television, gaming system, kitchen table and chairs, but it was a far cry from a normal twenty something year old’s home. Derek almost smiled seeing the familiar whiteboard tucked away by the back window. 

“You want a beer?” Stiles called from the kitchen.

Derek dropped his bag on the ground, almost reflexively responding with  _ you’re not old enough to drink _ before he remembered that Stiles was well past twenty-one. He wondered if they had gone out and celebrated, buying Stiles drinks until he couldn’t see straight. He remembered the boy’s birthday was sometime in early March. He never sent a  _ happy birthday _ text since he had been away. 

“Sure, thanks.” Derek said as he swallowed back the guilt.

He wandered over to the shelves for something to do as Stiles handed him a beer before moving to take Derek’s stuff to the spare bedroom. He looked over the array of books. There was everything from space constellations to a  _ Robert Frost  _ poetry collection. He could see plant identification books whose spines were cracked and various objects used as bookmarks sticking out from a good number of colorful volumes along the shelf. All of them looked well loved, like Stiles had read each and every one several times.

“This looks more like a library than a living room.” Derek noted as Stiles came to stand next to him. 

“I take my job as pack emissary very seriously.” Stiles answered with a wry smile.

Derek nearly choked on his beer. “ _ Pack emissary _ ?”

Stiles just shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal. “Deaton had to retire at some point.”

“How long have you been the emissary?” Derek asked, facing Stiles’ now. He watched as his face twisted in concentration, nose scrunching, eyes narrowing, and the tip of his lips turning down ever so slightly.

“He started teaching me not long after Mexico,” Stiles replied thoughtfully, “and I officially took over once I graduated college, so I guess about six years give or take.”

“You’ve been busy.” Derek murmured as he looked at the books again. He didn’t have to worry about them giving him a piercing stare.

“Yeah,” Stiles barked a laugh, “it wasn’t easy doing school work, combating the supernatural, and learning everything I needed to in order to take over for Deaton.”

Derek took another drink, not knowing what to say. Stiles had spent the past few years working hard to protect the people in the town and to become the person the pack went to for guidance, for help, for healing. Stiles had stayed and tried to make this small corner of the world a better place. And Derek had just ran out of there as fast as he could.

“Can I ask you something?” Derek still wasn’t looking at Stiles. He couldn’t. Not when he asked this.

“You just did.” Stiles replied and Derek caught sight of an amused grin spreading across his face.

Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles was still fucking infuriating in the best way. “I change my mind.”

“Derek!” Stiles whined, dropping his head on the wolf’s shoulder like it was second nature. Like that hadn’t been apart for ten years. Like Derek still meant something to Stiles.

“Fine.” Derek said with an exasperated sigh. “The rest of the pack has basically settled down, but-”

“But I’m still a party of one?” Stiles finished for him, the smile not reaching his eyes now.

Derek ducted his head, his cheeks flushing. He shouldn’t have asked, it wasn’t his business. He held his breath, daring to look over in Stiles’ direction. Those honey-whiskey eyes were on the books now, but Derek could tell he wasn’t really looking at them. He rubbed his lips together before taking a long sip from his beer. He finally tore his gaze away, moving towards the couch. Derek followed him, carefully taking the seat next to Stiles.

“I had a few relationships over the years.” Stiles began as he fiddled with the paper label on the bottle. “I dated this guy in college for a while and then after that I was with a girl for about three years.”

Derek ignored the growl in his chest. It didn’t matter what he wanted. Stiles was allowed to be happy with somebody else. Someone that wasn’t Derek.

“It was great,” Stiles continued, “I thought whatever I had with Amy could be a forever thing.”

“But,” Derek whispered when Stiles fell silent for too long.

Stiles huffed out a small breath of air. He ran a hand through his hair again, tugging on the end of the locks harshly. “It’s not exactly easy putting the things we’ve been through in the past.”

Derek nodded his head in understanding. He still had nightmares about the fire. About Kate. About a dark eyed boy with a constellation of moles dotting his milk white skin, lips curling into a cruel smile as it screamed for chaos.

“It was too much for them to handle.” Stiles said softly. “Even though Amy  _ knew _ about the supernatural aspect of my life, it was still too much. The screaming nightmares wore them down. The paranoia and the late nights studying and working on things they thought didn’t matter. Amy thought she could fix me, at first.” Stiles added with a hollow laugh. “She would pull me from some of my worst dreams, with soothing words and gentle touch at my back.”

Derek felt his jaw clench in anger.

Stiles shook his head, like it would clear away the memory. “But after a year and a half when the nightmares didn’t stop she thought it was more of a chore -  _ an annoyance _ \- than anything else.” 

“Stiles…” Derek began because he needed Stiles to know it wasn’t his fault. That he didn’t need someone to  _ fix _ him. He needed to know that having never ending nightmares wasn’t a burden. Not after the things they had seen. The things they had done. 

“It’s why I decided to become what I am.” Stiles cut Derek off. “I thought if I came back here and helped all these kids who might be going through what I did, then maybe I could begin to heal.”

“Did it help?” Derek asked with a raised eyebrow. If Stiles found the answer to moving on from their trauma then Derek wanted to know. Running away and moving on were two different things and Derek wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore.

“Sometimes.” Stiles took another long sip from his bottle. “But the nightmares are still there. The desperate need to study, to know, and to be prepared for the worst is still there.”

Derek aimed his frown towards the swishing, brown liquid in the dark, glass bottle. Beacon Hills was still full of ghosts. Derek was familiar with ghosts. He knew they never really went away. Instead they just floated through the dark corners of your mind, reminding you of the things you’ve lost and the pieces you’ll never get back.

“I think I’m better now than I was at eighteen,” Stiles said as his fingers gently wrapped around Derek’s wrist, “if that’s any consolation.”

“You all seem happy,” Derek pulled his eyes to meet those amber gold ones, “or, as happy as you can be given the circumstances.”

“You do too.” Stiles noted, his grip tightening just a bit, but Derek didn’t mind at all. “Maybe I should take a page from your book and hunker down in a cabin in the woods.”

“How do you know I live in a cabin?” Derek asked with an unimpressed glare.

Stiles grinned before falling into a fit of laughter. “Because, Sourwolf, I know you. You’re probably the unattainable small town hottie or the person everyone thinks is a serial killer.”

“Both.” Derek deadpanned, causing Stiles to laugh again. Derek’s stone cold composure only lasted a moment at best before he was chuckling. What could he do? Stiles’ laugh was just infectious in the best way.

“Okay,” Stiles said as he got up from the couch, “no more depressing talk, I promise I can be a better host than this.” He reached for a game controller, handing one to Derek before sitting back down next to him.

Derek noted how their knees touched.

“I haven’t played video games in years.” Derek groaned as the television came on, followed by the loading screen.

“Please,” Stiles teased as he playfully elbowed Derek, “like you could beat me anyway.”

Derek tried to ignore that familiar flutter in his stomach. That warmth flickering at the base of his spine. He wasn’t staying. He couldn’t stay. Stiles wasn’t enough to make him stay the first time, why should things be any different now? Still. Derek let himself have this moment -  _ this taste  _ \- because it was that something he had been missing and once it was gone Derek was terrified he’d never get it back.

* * *

It was the war drum beat of a heart. The sour stench of panic, and anxiety, and absolute  _ fear _ . It was that gut feeling of something being terribly wrong. It was the heartbreaking screams that echoed throughout the empty halls that had Derek rocketing out of bed, fangs bared and claws dropped as he stumbled out of the spare bedroom. He all, but ripped Stiles’ door open, moving through the darkness, electric blue eyes searching for a danger that wasn’t there. Seeing Stiles thrashing against the bed, sobs ripping through his chest anchored Derek immediately. 

_ Let me go. Please. Don’t hurt me. _

“Stiles,” Derek could hear the pain in his words, the crack in his voice, “ _ Stiles _ , it’s me, I’m here.”

He moved slowly, hesitantly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he reached out. He was careful not to grab Stiles’ too tightly, he didn’t want to hurt him. Stiles, in turn, twisted his fingers into Derek’s shirt, his body shaking as he screamed and screamed and screamed.

“I’m here,” Derek repeated, hands moving to cup the boy’s face, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“ _ Derek _ .” 

It came out in a broken cry. It was the softest sound spilling from Stiles’ lips since Derek had been thrust into consciousness by the boy’s nightmare. 

“Yeah,” Derek ran his fingers through the soft, short hair, “it’s okay. I’m here now.”

He watched as those doe browns blinked open, lashes still wet with tears. When his eyes came into focus Stiles flinched back like he was afraid….

_ Like he was afraid Derek would hurt him _

“Sorry,” Stiles murmured, the words more of a reflex, like he had been used to saying them over and over again.

“You don’t have to-” Derek began, his jaw clenching as Stiles shrunk in on himself. Something had to have happened for Stiles to be acting like that. Someone had to have…

“That was a bad one.” Stiles said as he tried to laugh, but it came out as a whimper.

Derek didn’t know what to say so he just brushed away the tears trailing down Stiles’ cheeks with his thumb.

“They’re not all like that.” Stiles added after a moment. It was like he needed to defend himself, to let Derek know he wasn’t this terrible, broken thing that was beyond loving. 

“It’s okay, Stiles.” Derek said in a gentle voice, though he felt far from being calm. His wolf was itching just beneath his skin, wanting to protect the boy that was still wrapped in his arms.

“Do,” Stiles began, stopped, licked his lips, and took a deep breath, “do you want to go for a walk? I know it’s late, “ he continued before Derek could answer, “but I kind of need to get out of here. The walls feel like they’re closing in and I might start hyperventilating any moment and I really just need to get the fuck out of here.”

“Whatever you need,” Derek nodded his head, but didn’t let Stiles go, “we can go.”

Stiles gave him a weak smile and with every passing second Derek was beginning to realize he had created another ghost.

* * *

It rarely snowed in Beacon Hills. Derek remembered, when he was younger, the first time it snowed. It was beautiful, quiet, and Derek had sat at the window all day watching it fall. It only snowed a few more times since that day, but now Derek hated the snow. It reminded him too much of ash.

So, it was with great surprise that Derek looked up into the cold, grey sky to see little flakes dotting the air, falling silently around them. It had come out of nowhere, like somehow Stiles had created this snow from his own volition. Stiles must have walked this path a lot, Derek noted as his eyes trailed over the worn dirt in the preserve. It wasn’t marked by any signs or trailhead, meaning it wasn’t exactly open to the public.

“Come here often?” Derek asked with a raised eyebrow, a light note of teasing in his tone.

Stiles chuckled softly. “It’s a good place to clear my head.”

He started down the path with Derek in tow. They walked in silence for a while, which was uncommon where Stiles was concerned. Derek focused on the sound of his heart -  _ still racing _ \- the sharp intake of his breath, the slight tremble in his hands. There was a story behind those screams, those pleas, that nightmare. There was a story behind the way Stiles had flinched back like Derek would hit him for reacting the way he did. Derek wanted to know, but at the same time was afraid to ask. He was once again reminded that he hadn’t been there to protect Stiles from whatever was haunting him. He was once again reminded of what he left behind.

“It was sophomore year of college,” Stiles murmured, like he had been reading Derek’s mind, “and I met this guy.”

Derek swallowed, but kept his gaze firm as he watched Stiles’ face.

“His name’s not important,” Stiles continued, “or, well, maybe it is, but I don’t want to give him the power by naming him.”

“You don’t have you.” Derek added quickly, the sour tang of bile already rising in the back of his throat.

Stiles gave him a small, pained smile before shaking his head. “The supernatural hadn’t really taken a full break yet, so we were still chasing monsters and hunting bad guys on the weekends.”

Derek imagined Stiles giving up drunk makeouts under cheap lights at house parties or late night donut runs with friends to drive all the way back to fucking Beacon Hills to save the day. The town wasn’t his responsibility. He didn’t owe it anything and yet he had come back time and time again to save it.

“It started out fine,” Stiles’ pace began to slow, eyes focused on the ground, “we hung out, we dated, we had fun, but at some point it changed. He asked who I was hanging out with when I went home for supernatural things. He yelled at me about waking him with my nightmares. He became controlling.”   
Derek felt that familiar ache in his jaw, the itch beneath his skin as his claws sat just beneath the surface, looking for a fight.

“I let it go on for  _ months _ .” Stiles said in an aggravated voice. “I told myself it was fine, it would get better. I was so exhausted with all my other problems. There had been a witch coven plaguing the town for weeks and finals were right around the corner. I was stressed and thought that the few good nights were worth keeping him around through the bad.”

“Stiles,” Derek asked quietly, “what happened?”

Stiles pressed his lips together in a thin line as he came to a stop in the middle of a small clearing. “Most of my nightmares at that time were post-nogitsune territory, some about the things that followed. Then one night I dreamed about you.”

“Me?” Derek asked with a raised eyebrow.

Stiles gave him a small, stiff nod in return. “Mexico, when I thought you were dying.” He whispered. “It was so much worse than that and I woke screaming your name,” Stiles took another shaky breath, “apparently that was the final straw.”

“Stiles…” Derek was gripping his arm now, trying to catch Stiles’ gaze, but the boy refused to look up. Derek just wanted Stiles to look at him.

“He was jealous,” Stiles’ voice was low and Derek could taste the shame stifling the air between them, “and angry. He only landed one hit in, but it was enough to take me to the ground.”

Derek  _ felt _ the growl rippling through his chest. He was going to fucking murder this guy for putting his hands on Stiles. 

“I left,” Stiles said, eyes still cast down, “I finally realized then what that relationship had become.” Stiles wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “But it felt like I had hit rock fucking bottom. It was just enough to allow the demon to walk right in.”

“The  _ what _ .” Derek snarled, his hold on Stiles becoming too tight, causing the boy to squeak out a small protest of pain. He immediately let go, taking a few steps back as he fought to keep his wolf contained.

“It’s okay, Derek.” Stiles said, a hand came to rest at the small of Derek’s back. “It’s in the past.”

A demon. A fucking demon had possessed Stiles when he had hit a low. If the whole Void disaster wasn’t enough something else -  _ something dark and sinister _ \- had taken over, once again leaving Stiles powerless in his own body.

“Why didn’t anyone call me?” He snapped through gritted teeth.

“It took them weeks to realize I was possessed. I didn’t see much of the pack until winter break.” Stiles said with a small shrug of his shoulders like it wasn’t a big deal. “My dad noticed I had lost about ten pounds and that’s when they found out.” Stiles gave Derek a wry smile. “Turns out demons don’t need to eat a lot. On the bright side, it did ace all of my finals for me, so there’s that.”

Derek was rolling Stiles words around his mouth, jaw still clenched in anger. Derek would have known. He could have stopped it sooner. If only he had fucking been there he could have stopped this boy from hitting Stiles. He could have torn the demon apart before it had even thought about touching Stiles.

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” Stiles murmured, drawing Derek’s attention back on him, “I think it only really wanted to torture me. What was only a few weeks felt like years.”

“Is that what your nightmare was about?” Derek asked, keeping his breaths even. “The demon?”

“Sort of.” Stiles said, kicking a branch out of the path with his shoe. “The demon was  _ him _ and, well, you can imagine what happened from there.”

“Have you-”

“Talked to a therapist?” Stiles asked with a hollow smile. “I’m sure Marin could write books about the things i told her. She said recovery and healing takes time and it isn’t always linear.”

“I’m sorry.” Derek spoke softly. He knew it was worthless. It wouldn’t help Stiles now, like he hadn’t helped Stiles then. He shouldn’t have come back here. He was better off believing that everyone he’d abandoned in Beacon Hills were better off without him. He couldn’t imagine it becoming worse, but somehow it had. Somehow the universe found a way for the people he cared about most to suffer. 

“Dude,” Stiles asked sharply, eyebrows quipping up, “why are you sorry? I’m the one who is unloading all of my mostly unresolved trauma on you.”

“I didn’t just leave because I needed to get the hell out,” Derek explained as he clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to workout his anger and guilt, “I left because I thought it would be safer for all of you.”

“It’s okay that you got out, Derek.” Stiles’ heart was steady and Derek hated how much the boy believed in those words. “No one blames you. It was hard, yeah, but there’s only so much a person can take.”

“You stayed.” Derek whispered facing Stiles fully now.

He felt like he had been shoved back into that moment in the parking lot as Stiles pinned him with a look that could make his heart stop. It wasn’t fair that this boy could look at him like  _ that _ , even over ten years later and it still made Derek feel like all his walls had come crumbling down.

“Every single day I thought about following you.” Stiles said as a half smile on lips. “It took a long time to figure out how to think about you without it ripping my heart out.”

Derek had thought about it too. There were days his thumb hovered over the  _ send _ button with an invitation for Stiles to run away with him. But Derek felt like he never deserved it. Never deserved something akin to a happily ever after with Stiles by his side.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come back here.” Derek said.

“I’m glad you did.” Stiles was closer now.

Derek could see his breath curling in the cold. His doe brown eyes looked enchanting beneath the moonlight. All of those feelings he had been burying for years and years were suddenly overwhelming him again. Falling for Stiles had never really stopped, even after he had gone. It had just slowed, causing Derek to float in the freefall. Now he was crashing back down and his chances of survival were slim to none. 

What if, this time, he stayed?

He didn’t need to ask as he mirrored Stiles’ movements, closing the distance between them. Their lips were a breath apart when Derek felt Stiles’ hands against his chest, a small, red dot hovering over his heart. Derek was thrown back with such strength, such force, he wouldn’t have believed it was Stiles if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. There was the sound of a gunshot, a cry of pain, and when Derek opened his eyes Stiles was on the ground, blood pooling around him.

“STILES!”

Derek’s wolf took over as he rushed to the boy’s side. There was still a heartbeat. There was still an intake of breath. There was still time. Derek placed his hands over the wound above Stiles’ heart.

“Hang on.” Derek pleaded as he moved to scoop Stiles up in his arms. 

It was his fault. All his fault. He had come back to the one place they would all know to find him and he put Stiles right in the crossfire. Three more rounds went off and Derek fell to his knees, the wolfsbane forcing him out of his shift. Stiles groaned as he rolled a few feet away from Derek, but the wolf barely had a moment to think as the sound of heavy boots approached him.

“O’Connor.” Derek snarled as he doubled over in pain.

O’Connor smiled as he stepped out from behind a tree, his gun held loftily in his hand. “I had a feeling you would come back here, it is your home after all.”

He paused, stopping right in front of Stiles. He bent down, roughly grabbing Stiles’ jaw, turning his head this way and that. 

“Get your hands off of him.” Derek snarled his claws digging into the cold, hard ground beneath him.

“Brave boy,” O’Connor tsked, “shame he runs with people like you.”

“Let me save him.” Derek pleaded as he watched Stiles’ breaths become more shallow by the second. “Then you can have me. But let me save him.”

O’Connor grinned as he patted Stiles’ cheek before standing up and marching over to Derek. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Fuck you.” Derek spat as he lunged forward, but O’Connor had been prepared, emptying another bullet into Derek’s chest.

Derek hit the ground, the taste of blood and  _ death _ filling his mouth.

“The last of the Hales.” O’Connor said as he pulled out a pistol, resting the barrel against Derek’s temple, “I can’t tell you how cathartic this is going to feel after I pull this trigger.”

“That’s going to be nothing compared to how I will feel after what I do to you.” 

Derek had never heard his voice sound so dangerous, so deadly, not even when he was nothing, but Void. He only saw a flash of ice blue eyes and snapping electricity before his entire world went black, the sound of O’Connor’s screams echoing through the empty forest.

* * *

The world around him blurred into soft browns, greens, and blues before Derek realized he was laying on a worn, leather couch as cold fingers ran over his bare chest. He felt like it was on fire and he shivered as practiced hands worked over his wounds, his skin tingling from the touch. Those doe browns were the first things he could focus on as he came to, his breath catching slightly as he watched a hint of the ice blue he had seen earlier brighten Stiles’ eyes.

“Stiles?” he asked, hand reaching out to caress the boy’s cheek.

Stiles smiled, warm and beautiful as tilted his head into the touch, hands still working furiously against Derek’s chest.

“Hey, Sourwolf,” he said, “I was starting to think I was too late.”

“You’re okay.” He murmured, thumb brushing over pale skin.

“I told you I take my job as emissary seriously,” Stiles hummed.

“But how did you...” Derek could remember the righteous fury in Stiles’ voice, the fire in his eyes, the current of electricity -  _ of power _ \- ebbing from his fingertips before he lost consciousness.

“Deaton taught me how to harness my spark,” Stiles explained, “I’m not just the token human anymore.”

“O’Connor?” Derek asked as he slowly sat up, his wounds almost completely healed.

“Gone.” Stiles smirked. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Derek couldn’t help the small smile filling his face. “Somehow, you never cease to surprise me.”

Stiles winked before biting down on his lip, shyly looking away. “You should be all better now and free to go home in the morning if you want.”

He didn’t pull out of Derek’s reach though, or made any indication he wanted Derek to go. Stiles would never ask Derek to stay simply because he valued Derek’s happiness, his freedom. He understood his reasons for leaving and didn’t want Derek to suffer from the hell that was Beacon Hills.

“What if I am home?” Derek asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Even when he was stuck in Beacon Hills Derek felt like he had been running all his life. Always running away from his past, his guilt, his nightmares that were rooted in a place. He thought getting out would make him feel like he wasn’t running anymore. He could breathe, he felt at peace, but there was always something missing. Always something reminding him that, no matter where he went or how long he settled in an unknown town he was still, somehow running away.

Now he wanted to run towards something instead. He wanted to follow that pull until the ache didn’t run deep in his bones anymore. He knew he couldn’t change the past, but he could forgive himself for it.

“Then I’m home too.” Stiles replied simply.

He let Stiles take the lead because, despite it all, the boy would always be braver than Derek ever could be. Their lips met and it was moments later that Derek realized there was snow falling softly around them. Stiles laughed, his cheeks flushing slightly as he looked up at the small cloud sitting above their heads.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, “I think that’s me.”

Derek only smiled as he pulled the boy into another kiss. Maybe the snow no longer fell like ash or tasted like fire. Maybe it was just as pure and magical as the boy against his lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> I think I hurt myself writing this fic dang. Anyway, thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this angst dump I apparently had to get out of my system. Let me know your thoughts!


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